26

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Allow me to summarize the current situation in the Jura Tempest Federation, as of three days after Rimuru and Mary's departure.

Milim Nava, one of the strongest and oldest Demon Lords (according to every source of information I've drawn on), has left Tempest alone for an unknown amount of time.

Essentially, "I'll tell the Demon Lord Council that Tempest is of no concern" were her parting words.

It's been a couple months now since then, and no word has come back.

Given her fondness of Tempest and Rimuru, and her relatively irresponsible demeanor, I find it unlikely she has remained away for so long simply to manage her own duties as a Demon Lord. Then again, who knows how well a thousand-year-old being keeps track of time? Perhaps she simply doesn't understand a century-long time scale.

Logically, this is sound. In practice?

I doubt this is the case. It seems far more likely that something else is keeping her away. Milim giving up the best cooking she's ever experienced in thousands of years? No, I don't believe that for a moment.

The how and why is yet to be seen, but everything I know about her means I have no reason to believe she'd willingly stay away for any significant period of time. Especially not with how much she seems to love her "bestie".

But, out of sight out of mind, as they say. Milim, for the moment, is not my primary concern.

The Jura Tempest Federation has become temporarily leaderless. This is of the utmost importance right now. Rimuru Tempest has left for the Kingdom of Ingrassia, accompanied by newly appointed Executive Mary Sue, Ranga, one of Souei's body doubles, and the mediocre human adventurer trio of Eren, Gido, and Kabal.

I've more than made my thoughts known on this. I won't return to them now. That's in the past.

What matters now is keeping the Federation running while it's king-figure is away.

Not an easy task, but not the hell one might expect.

The work that used to solely go to Rimuru has been disseminated among various Executives. On paper, this might appear as though everyone's workload has increased dramatically. In practice, most of Rimuru's duties were handled by the Executives already. Delegation at its finest, and I'm more than thankful that such systems and channels of information and work were already mostly preestablished.

The change introduced was simply one of increased specialization. Hakurou, Benimaru, and Rigur are fully focused on developing and maintaining Tempest's defense. Shuna, Rigurd, and the Golbina known as Ririna work together to manage Tempest's economic, domestic, and foreign affairs alonside its production. Not respectively, but all together.

Souei spreads his information network ever further with the help of Souka and the rest of his subordinates. Kurobe and Kaijin remain hard at work in the forges, and Vesta moves forward with his experiments.

Oh, and Treyni manages her bar with occasional assistance from her sisters Trya and Triss.

Everything is taken care of.

…except for the paperwork – though "wooden tablet work" is more accurate due to genuine paper's continued rarity – that Rimuru usually handled every day. For the time being, I've taken to managing this aspect of Tempest's leadership, alongside my official Executive role as Tempest's Head of Intelligence and my occasional advisory roles everywhere else barring the forge.

My work never ceases, does it?

This is the problem with being a good worker. Sure, under good management you're properly compensated for your extra – and extraordinary – contributions, but at the same time you're endlessly dooming yourself by setting such a high expectation. You'll soon find yourself performing far above your paygrade.

Though, if you were to argue the one more fit for paperwork between Rimuru and I, or indeed the one most fit for such work in the entirety of Tempest, well, the answer is fairly obvious.

With that in mind, it's hard for me to complain. The right one for the right job, and all that.

Luckily, in spite of this extra workload, it's been a relatively simple transition.

Shion has been assisting me, in essentially the same role she held as Rimuru's secretary. Delivering tablets, ferrying messages, cooking when no one wants her too, walking around the city and checking on its various residents…

She's surprisingly competent when she wants to be, though more often than not I find myself wishing my old, consistently competent adjutant was assisting me instead. My own coffee brewing still hasn't quite reached her level, after all.

Ah, have I been feeling more nostalgic lately? How odd.

No time think about it, really, so I won't bother.

If Shion keeps this semi-competence up, I might just put in a good word for her with Rimuru. They're similar brands of idiots, so they might fit well, assuming Rimuru's drunken "experience" hasn't inclined them towards more petite- ah, but there's not time for idle speculation on that end either.

The point. Right, the point.

Everything is under control. Tempest is at peace.

For now.

It's true that nothing has come knocking directly on our doors since Charybdis was vanquished. Further, any inklings of shady dealings and secret preparations hasn't reached the ears of Souei's net. But that doesn't mean there won't be more upstarts and antagonists in the future.

The incident in Xerxes proves that well enough. The best we can do is be on guard. To enjoy this peace while it lasts and prepare for its inevitable end with all our might.

I… admit this next piece freely.

I'm more than a bit tired of conflict. Was that obvious?

It's not like me to say this, but… perhaps I'll try a little optimism this time and hope for this peace to remain indefinitely. Shuna would like that. Mary would appreciate it.

Is that what I've been trying to reach? I'm sure. The peace that follows this journey of mine, spanning three worlds, three vastly different lives.

.

.

.

.

.

…when will I finally reach that end?

-=-=-=-

Late Morning

Unmarked Facility

Kingdom of Ingrassia

Trouble was brewing in the depths of the Kingdom of Ingrassia.

In the depths, or rather deep beneath that massive meandering sprawl of magically fantastical human civilization, an expanse chamber spread wide. A single, overwhelming room safe and hidden from prying eyes by several tens of meters of earth and underground infrastructure.

A massive rectangle of a chamber, 100 square meters one way and half that the other by the closest approximation – near enough an American football field in length and half it in width, you might say – and tall enough to house that field's bleachers as well. Columns, carved plainly for use rather than appeal, lined the room lengthwise, supporting the entire structure.

Oddly similar to a certain other underground chamber back in another city, but who's to say what inspired whom?

It was dark in this place. Dim, more accurately, as lights shone from an unseen source down the length of the room, leaving the edges of the area just past the columns shadowed and blank to the eye. Dark curtains of shade lined the area beyond those walls, impenetrable to ordinary sight and light.

It was almost… a glitch, in a way. A trick of perspective and lighting, an impossibility of the eye. As if, within those shadows lay something purely beyond ordinary perception. As if, such perception was wrong.

Incomprehensible without consequence.

In the center of this chamber was a large, circular pit of sand. A miniature arena, a small gladiator's paradise. And in this arena stood a man.

He was a man. Once, in another world.

Ah.

Or... had it all been a dream?

The one known of Drake of Scylla had long since abandoned any notion of humanity. This was a being who existed solely for his own whims, his own desires. He was the monster, nay, the one that would become the strongest, the one that would dismantle every power structure above and below that thought they could control the world and stand atop them all as their better.

He'd be the one to finally put the boot to those fakers, those sub-perfect beings that called themselves Demon Lords. Guy Crimson's corpse would serve as his steppingstone, and he would take his rightful place on top of the world.

He who was not human would stand atop humanity and claim him and them above all.

Even if he had to burn everything and everyone else to ashes in the process.

Above even the True Dragons. Perhaps… above Veldanava himself.

Between the Heavens and the Earth, there would be none more honored than Drake of Scylla, Pinnacle of Humanity, God of Soul, the King of Spirits. Such was the ambition of this being who was once a man, not quite a monster, yet fully one lone being of his own making.

And yet…

And yet… that woman… that woman ruined everything.

A crash of steel. A mutual snarl of being and beast. Sparks hissing, fading in the sand dominating the chamber's center. Crimson splotches and pitch black tendrils splashing against those golden grains.

Everything.

His hard work… his friends, allies, projects...

My dream.

He dropped to a crouch, his golden spear singing a requiem as it swept out his opponent's legs.

The beast, long arms past its waist dripping shadow and blood from wicked length claws, gnashed its teeth in primal, instinctual fury. The creature – a bipedal wolf on first glance and something more, something wrong, something that was no longer its initial form upon further staring – fell with the sweep, uncaring, slashing out with a mangled, clawed appendage resembling a hand.

Drake grunted, falling to his back in the sand and receiving a gash across his cheek for his trouble, rather than losing both his eyes had he remained crouched in place. The beast fell next to, then onto him for but a moment, before he kicked up with both feet, launching the bastardized amalgamation of a creature high into the air.

He flipped to his feet, wrenching his arm forward, up, his spear a golden blur as it left his hand, rocketing towards his unwillingly airborne foe. The beast reached the apex of its ascent, gravity taking hold and pulling towards its demise.

But not yet.

It wrenched its body to the side, the spear slipping past, clipping away a few narrow strands of errant shadow as it shot by. The beast groaned, low and unnatural, and stared at the ground, claws stretching out.

If such a thing could feel confusion, it did in that moment. Drake was no longer on the ground.

Something slammed into the creature's back.

Drake, as if teleporting, appeared by his spear the very instant it missed its mark, catching it and flipping it around in one motion. Gravity took him as well, and he descended, his spear flashing down, through the beast's back then chest with little resistance.

They plummeted as one, impaled and Impaler, a howl of pain and fury from each other's lips. Then, they landed.

FWOOOM!

A wave of sand burst up around then, the shockwave of their impact rattling the immediate area and blasting away the chamber's stagnant, heated air. Some invisible thing stopped the disruption past a certain point, as though waves splashing up and back away from a coastal castle's formidable walls.

Only one of them stood. That being, the man who was not human, more beast than the one that had been felled.

The only article of clothing visible on him, a pair of short black shorts, was dusted with sand and slimy shadow. Sand clung to his skin, sweat and cursed, blackened blood dripping down muscular arms, torso, and legs.

"…Pathetic." Drake stood, brushing his soaked salt and pepper bangs back with one hand, and pulling his spear free from the beast's rapidly dissolving corpse with the other. He spat into the sand, disgusted.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, this power of mine is just… Drake wiped roughly across his mouth, remnants of the crimson spittle clinging stubbornly to parts of his beard. I'm still far too weak.

"Your actions don't match your aspirations."

It wouldn't be enough. Not for her.

"Right now, I see a man with dreams that far surpass himself."

I must become stronger.

"You're going to become the greatest, and you're going to put Scylla on top of the world. Is that right?"

Yes. Yes, it is. That's right, Tasha… no, Tanya. Murderer of Eve, Nin Gen, Octavius Valentin. Bane of Scylla.

"You'll effectively be declaring war on the rest of the world. Are you willing to take on all challengers?"

Yes. I declare war on anyone who stands my way. I declare war on the world. On the Council, on the True Dragons, on the GODS.

A subsonic rumble shook the air's very atoms.

I declare war on you, Demon Lord Seed Tanya.

Hidden deep along the edges of the chamber, where the shadows grew long. The shade glitched, shattered, reformed, the verge of madness reaching all who dared looked for too long.

Something was not right in this place, in this darkness.

Behind the columns, a great weight could be felt, but not heard. It could be sensed, in the way that sweat drips down the back of one's neck. Inside that deep, instinctual fear hardwired into the genome from years, generations of being hunted.

It was a power of layers, dense and suffocating, that filled the shadows.

Among those layers, a piece of the darkness peeled away, for just a moment.

And out of it stared a lone, crimson eye.

Watching.

Back in the chamber's center, Drake stepped back to the middle of the mini arena proper, absentmindedly brushing away sand from his forearms and shoulders. As if they'd always been there, three beasts, mirror images of the previous one, stood opposite and around him, their fucked-up forms shaking with barely repressed primeval rage.

The arena repaired itself as if by magic, the sand spread everywhere returning and filling in until all was level and ready once more. Blood and shadow still dotted its surface, countless battles just like the previous having been fought today, and yesterday, and the day before.

Just as countless more would be fought tomorrow, and the day after, and beyond that as well.

I must become stronger. I'll do anything to achieve that. I'll never give in, not until your demise. Not until I see you choke in your own blood. Not until your world burns down around you, as mine did. Prepare heartily for your demise.

Drake settled into his stance. His body shifted, crouching and sliding half to the side. One hand settled near the spear's point and the other nearer the other end, the point itself angled toward the ground. His body flexed, his aura flaring.

He snarled, far away from human, "Begin!"

They darted forward as one-

-=-=-=-

CLASH!!!

"Good!" Hakurou jumped back, dodging Tanya's follow up stab, the grass parting from the wind of the blow. "You haven't let your skills rust! I admit, I was worried after all that desk work!"

"Funny!" Tanya called back, stepping away and flipping her wooden shinai back into an overhand grip. She and Hakurou straightened as one, circling clockwise with eyes locked on the other's. "I make it habit to stay practiced at what keeps me alive. Even more so now that I'm the next one up for Tempest. And even if I don't particularly care for fighting, I'll admit there's a certain fun to tangible improvement."

"Perhaps you're right. There are worse things than pursuing the way of the sword for self-improvement purposes. That being said, perhaps you'd like to try your hand at the Water Arts once more?" Hakurou offered, gesturing vaguely with a hand. His other rested loosely on the bokken sheathed at his side. "You're protégé has created her own brand of Elemental Arts. Knowing what it's done for her, I'm sure a little effort on your part would raise you just as well."

"Unlike her, I've no gift for swordsmanship, nor a prodigious talent in raw combat. All of my skill is from hard work and efficient use of resources, not some innate talent."

I've never been a prodigy; she's a natural swordswoman after a month of practice. Good for her, honestly. Is it rude to say she needs it? But it goes without saying that I have my own ways of staying ahead.

Tanya lunged forward without warning, Hakurou meeting her in kind. Shinai crashed against bokken, wood knocking wood as they engaged rapid blows. Hakurou's skill outweighed her, but Tanya's own innate magical power boosted her speed and strength to such a level that it mattered only enough to even out their bout.

"Don't be so sure." Hakurou said drily, the two breaking apart once more and circling one another, "Though, it's true that compared to you or I, her natural physical prowess is something beyond ordinary."

"As is her aura. Combining perfect subconscious control of that with her enhanced physicality is-" Tanya made a so-so motion, "I'm almost jealous. It's why she could grasp your technique so easily and I cannot. Opposite ends of the spectrum, I'm afraid."

"You magic is almost too efficient, in that sense." Hakurou noted, "Is it not?"

"Yes, but I'd never complain about that." Tanya held up a hand, sending a Magic Bullet his way as easy as if she'd blinked. Hakurou sidestepped, the orb disappearing as if it were nothing, "I'd rather it be too efficient and be unable to access aura, than have both be usable and lackluster. It allows me to do this sort of thing easily enough."

Tanya disappeared, her image flickering out.

Hakurou spun, his bokken flashing up to block her shinai. She flickered into full view, both hands clenched around the handle and pressing against his guard. She leaned, and her knee shot up, forcing Hakurou to disengage. He jumped back, deflecting the wooden staff that shot half free from a bundle of space magic just above him.

"Attacks from in front, behind, and above? Rarely a wasted moment or movement, always working for the most efficient killing angles." The old Kijin huffed, amused, "You're certainly no one other than 'Tanya' in that regard."

"Efficiency will always beat haste. Smooth, purposed motion will always outpace speed. You put this thought process to the sword, and you can kill anything that dies. If something wants so desperately to kills you, then one simply needs to draw their sword from Point A to Point B in a smooth, unhesitant line." Tanya set her shinai against her shoulder, the tip pointing vaguely, accusingly skyward. "And, when you apply this thought to something more than sharpened steel, not even the sky is your limit. Magic, aura, willpower… forget what can die. With enough, you can kill anything that lives."

She shrugged.

"Or at least, that's how I see it."

"Certainly, that is an interesting point of view. I wouldn't recommend preaching it to the Western Church, however." Hakurou smiled wryly, "Care to test it some more?"

"You still have the energy, old timer? Wouldn't want you missing your afternoon nap time."

"Oho," A borderline malicious aura filled the air, "You'll find that this 'old timer' has far more energy than he knows what to do with. Especially when he has to wizen up smart talking youngsters."

That's right. That's the look I want. Tanya slid her shinai from her shoulder, grasping it with two hands and settling into a ready stance. Its wooden body extended horizontally, the pommel on the inside of her stance and the shinai itself loosely pointed out and to the side. Keep training. Keep honing your skills. Let's try to make this fun, shall we?

They moved as one, drawing closer and closer until-

-=-=-=-

SLASH!

Mary flipped around the beast. Upside down in the air now, her blade flashed out once more horizontally, carving easily through its torso and bisecting it perpendicular to the previous strike.

Magic from the strike flowed across the beast's body, the concept of destruction imbuing its living flesh and rendering that status past tense. Blood sloshed across the stone brick floor, and as Mary landed, she stepped forward, narrowly voiding a crimson shower.

Magic is an idea projected into reality. It is a phenomenon of the world, a Law of the Universe just as innate to its folds as gravity, time, and other forces of existence. To shape one's will and concepts through a unique energy and force it into literal existence; such is magic.

Therefore, intent is key. Magical power imbued with the intent to destroy, then, could be called-

Putting names to it, it was sort of like… magic infused with imaginary elements of "strength", "destruction", and "severance" huh?

The magic across her blade swelled, threatening to wash over the pommel. Mary shut down the flow of energy, frowning briefly. Her eyes flashed neon for a brief moment, tilting the blade slightly before sheathing it at her back.

That's a dangerous combination for me. My magic's not quite stable enough yet to make that consistent without sacrificing something else. Not unusable, though. Rimuru didn't seem to have any trouble… really, how unfair is that? Prodigies like him and Tanya really have it too easy.

It was essentially the same concept as Hakurou's Water Arts, or her own Elemental Arts. Magic and Aura imbued with a specific power to strengthen or alter a blade's strike ability, only expanded upon beyond the basics of the six main elements.

Meanwhile, Rimuru watched from the sidelines, eyebrows raised underneath his mask.

"Interesting…" He murmured. "She does learn fast."

Beside him, Eren and Kabal shifted nervously, glancing around as if waiting for something.

"So," Mary called, towards the man opposite her in the arena, "Jiggis, was it? I won, so I qualify for Rank-B too, don't I?"

The peg-leg having man, Jiggis, with matted shoulder-length hair and a slightly unkempt five o'clock shadow, would have laughed, his sense of humor revitalized somewhat from Rimuru's performance just minutes earlier.

However, he was too busy collapsing to his knees and sweating through his coat to give much in the way of a proper response.

"Oh shit, are you-" Mary raised a hand, ready to walk over.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Jiggis coughed, a wet sound coming out that sounded quite the opposite of fine. He waved her off, still coughing and crouching, "Just winded. Sorry."

"Hey, you don't have to apologize."

"You're wrong there, girl." A familiar gruff voice chimed in.

Stepping past the circle of runes than constituted the mini arena's edge, the Blumund Guildmaster, or Fuze as he was more familiarly known by, strolled forward, malice practically reeking from his pores. All around, the crowd that had gathered to watch rapidly dispersed. Gido ran up to Rimuru, Eren, and Kabal then, dropping his hands to his knees and gasping for air.

"Jiggis does need to apologize. To me. As well as give me a good fucking reason as to why I shouldn't throw his ass out on street right now."

In that moment, Fuze was far scarier than either of the two Lesser Demons that had been slain today.

-=-

The atmosphere in the room could best be described in one word: tense.

"Well, we've got our identification cards," Naturally, Rimuru had to break this the only way he knew how, "So all well that ends well. Right?"

"Rimuru," Mary barely resisted the urge to flick him on the forehead, "Please shut up."

The two sat side by side, sinking in the cushions of a surprisingly luxurious couch. Fuze's office sprawled around them, well decorated and well-sized and stocked with exactly the sort of things you might expect from the sitting office of a nation's Guildmaster.

Needless to say, the twin swords hanging on display from the front of Fuze's desk did the atmosphere no favors.

"For starters, only the Guildmaster is allowed to proctor the exam for Rank-B." Fuze sat behind his desk, looking for all the world like a man fighting a losing battle against a headache, "You were supposed to be brought directly to me. Those were the orders given to your guides. And yet…"

Off the side, the idiot trio in question knelt with their heads bowed, gloom and embarrassment hanging over them like a curtain. So, uh, nothing really new on that front.

"Ah." Rimuru coughed into his fist.

Fuze is a scary guy when he wants to be. Though, with the people he has to manage here in Blumund, I understand why.

"Ah indeed." Fuze sighed, looking remarkably less scary as he leaned forward in his seat, "Blumund's leadership understands your intent, to a degree, but the same cant be said for the general populace. They don't even know of you. And if they did happen to learn about a powerful monster leading thousands of others…"

"It'd probably be catastrophic." Mary added for him, having half-listened to enough of Tanya's murmurings about Tempest's political situation to understand Fuze's gist immediately.

Also, apparently Tanya and Shuna occasionally talked complicated intercontinental politics for pillow talk, as Mary had unintentionally discovered while getting water from the kitchen at 3am one morning. It was kind of cute. And also really weird, but hey, who was she to judge?

At least they were getting laid.

"Mass panic, calls to arms, cries for foreign aid." Mary continued with a shrug, "That sort of thing."

Fuze blinked, then nodded. "Right in one."

Mary could feel four pairs of eyes pinning her down then. She looked to her left, then farther to her left off to the side, finding Rimuru and the trio… looking at her. Like she'd grown a second head.

"What?"

"N- nothing…" Rimuru tilted his head, the trio copying his moves like idiotic puppies.

"It's just…" Gido started.

"You sounded…" Kabal added.

"…surprisingly reliable there, Mary." Eren finished, the mirror image group of four seeming almost bewildered by the statement.

Mary blinked.

Oh, that's right. The last time I'd really interacted with those three was months ago, and we haven't talked much on the trip so far. They haven't really known me more recently… wait.

She blinked again.

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT FROM YOU FOUR OF ALL-"

-=-

~We'll be right back~

-=-

"You're right." Rimuru crossed his arms, nodding, "Hm, hm. Tempest has no contracts with Blumund yet. It's better to exercise caution first and foremost."

Everyone else elected to completely ignore the fist-sized lump on the side of the slime's head. As well as the dangerous aura still radiating from the person sitting to his right.

If there was anyone to fear in this room, it wasn't Fuze.

And with those profoundly obvious statements, the next several days of Blumund-related meetings and conferences between Rimuru Tempest, his "entourage", and Blumund's various representatives began in earnest.

Plenty of yawn-inducing meet-and-greets were held, as Mary could attest, having been on the verge of sleep for most of them. Eren, Gido, and Kabal had not been invited to sit in on those particular meetings, or else they would have no doubt felt the same.

Even describing them now was enough of a chore, but Mary could lay out the brass tacks well enough without passing out.

The Kingdom of Blumund and the Jura Tempest Federation officially entered a mutual defense treaty and a mutual passage agreement. Essentially, it boiled down to "your sword is my sword", and vice versa, along with "your roads are my roads", and vice versa.

The nuance was a bit more than that, more so mutual aid rather than mutual resources. They were allies, and an attack on an ally was an attack on the both of them. On top of that, you trade with us, and we'll trade with you. And we – we being Blumund, that is – will even pay you for it!

How nice of them.

To be perfectly honest, Rimuru'd gotten screwed over. Blumund benefited far, far more from such a deal; no doubt Tanya and Shuna would give him an earful about "unfair compromises" and some other such lectures upon his eventual return.

Regardless of how skewed the benefits, Tempest did see a few boons from this as well. Human recognition was crucial to their future, and increased trade routes with a well-placed and respectable human nation would only do their growth a great service going forward. Furthermore, the addition of Guild presence in Tempest would only serve to boost Tempest's own reputation as yet another spawn of heroic activity.

Even if those heroes happened to sometimes be and work with monsters.

And naturally, the boost to Tempest's treasury by way of tariffs, increased trade, and tourism – just to name a few – would always be a more than welcome addition.

Tanya and Shuna would be proud. Barely.

In any case, upon hashing out the fine details of this arrangement with one of Blumund's ministers, Beloard, Rimuru and Mary met with Blumund's king.

A portly, but seemingly kind fellow, who lacked a bit of the political knowhow of his ministers yet made up for it by accidentally slipping to Rimuru just how much he'd potentially fucked up by agreeing to this Blumund-Tempest mutual aid contract.

The realization that all attacks – not just by monsters, but also other nations such as the Eastern Empire – were included in "mutual defense", left Rimuru about ready to run and hide in the mountains.

All he really could think about at that moment in time was along the lines of...

I am dead. Tanya is going to fucking kill me, and Shuna is going to salt the ashes of my poor, slime puddle of a corpse.

Well, that and-

I really can't let my guard down around humans!

A fair sentiment to have.

Really, it just showed his inexperience in such matters. Even with such excellent political tutors and mentors around him, he was bound to slip up and stumble sometimes. That's how you grow, after all.

On the bright side, the Blumund stop did end on a high note.

An easy demonstration of Tempest's patented Full Potion – willingly tested by that surly proctor Jiggis, who now no longer needed a peg leg – easily secured Tempest's status as a premium item distribution center.

High quality High Potions were on the open market, baby! The gold would practically be pouring into the Jura Tempest coffers now. Imagine if they could secure trade even further… well, they were already heading to Ingrassia. Might as well make the effort, eh?

And with that, Rimuru's job in Blumund was done. The perfect, successful – in his eyes – start to what would undoubtedly be an incredibly successful overall trip. Hell, even despite such a high starting point… well, it could only go up from here!

…is what he was thinking then.

-=-=-=-

Two Days Later

Free Guild Headquarters

Kingdom of Ingrassia

"WHAAAAATTTT!!!"

The voice echoed down the empty hallway, the early morning sun angled just right for shadows to still be cast across most of the extensive lengthwise space.

The source of this yell spun around on his heel, the one eye visible through his black, bunny-ear topped clown mask flashing widening. Purple striped clothes on top and bottom lined with yellow, and a bright red nose dead center of his mask labeled this being as a clown, and his exaggerated actions showed it.

"That slime on his way here?! To Ingrassia?!?!"

"Yes, it seems they were in Blumund just recently." Another voice, from the sparse shadow cover. "They should be arriving today."

"Today!" The clown spun again, hands pressed against his mask, "To think, that little slime would wander so close to Western Holy Church territory! No, to wander right inside part of that domain directly with little care in the world! Are they crazy? They must be crazy! I feel inspired!"

The clown mimed tying a knot.

"Or they're living without wanting to, no?"

"No, that would be amusing." Yuuki pushed off the wall, stepping free of the shadow and moving to pat the clown on the shoulder, "But I doubt it, Laplace."

"Of course." Laplace nodded. "I'd ask we leave them alone for now anyhow."

"Oh?"

"I mentioned the Church, you know. They've been getting a little too uppity, don'tcha think? Veldora disappears and they think running the place is their business? Nah man." Laplace's shoulders shook, quiet laughter bubbling under his voice, "I'm thinking I'll sneak in while they're too busy looking down their noses at others to see what's just behind them."

"Haha! Now that's interesting. Exposing holy secrets? Consider me intrigued. Should be a cakewalk for someone as good as you, Laplace."

"Oh please. Don't boost me up too high, man." Somehow, the wide grin on his mask grew wider, his footsteps bouncing as he swept from the hall, "It'll at least be as difficult as a cakejog!"

"A cakejog, he says." Yuuki shook his head, watching as the clown left. He chuckled, "The Western Holy Church, and that amusing little slime from the nation of monsters. I hope they don't kill him too quickly, now. But I suppose that'd be amusing enough by itself, wouldn't it? Kekeke-"

"Are you talking to yourself again?"

Now, Yuuki did not flinch, nor did his heart skip even a quarter of a beat. If anyone asked, he'd merely been readjusting his position to lean back against the wall once more.

He did, however, turn to acknowledge his newest guest with a smile that was only half genuine.

Half, not because he wasn't happy to see her, but because that was the best his two-faced self was capable of providing. Though, to any other than himself it appeared fully happy and genuine; yet, he himself knew better.

"Tear!" Yuuki said, setting a hand on his hip, "Good to see you, of course."

"Great! And you didn't answer my question!" The shorter, pinker clown bounced in place impatiently.

"How's your little pet project going?"

"How was talking to yourself going again?"

"I wasn't talking to myself."

"You definitely were."

"If you're so certain I was, in fact, talking to myself, even though I certainly was not, then why did you even ask in the first place?" Yuuki pointed out, "I highly doubt my answer, the objectively correct point that I was not talking to myself, would sway the opinion you'd formed before the said question had even been asked."

"My pet project is going great!" Tear was the one to change topics this time, leaving Yuuki feeling thoroughly unsatisfied with his role in the conversation thus far, "I was just checking on it, actually."

"And it's going…?"

"Great!" Tear spun in place, her arms thrown out to the side. "Super great, even!"

Yuuki quietly wondered what made clown-dressing figure so inclined to spinning.

"He's already gotten way stronger. Though, he was super weak before, so that's not saying much. At this rate, he might even make a good peon! Hehe, peon."

"Do you believe he'll be ready for his little revenge tour in enough time?"

"Hm, hmmm, hmmmmm… I don't know! He just trains day in and day out with those shadow things. Train, sleep, train, sleep, that's all he does! And it still might not be enough!"

"I'm not sure. Don't underestimate the strength of a man out for revenge, Tear."

"That little 'revenge' notion alone isn't going to put him above the level of Octavius's killer, you know." Tear was doing a handstand now, for some ungodly reason Yuuki couldn't discern, "It didn't put beastie boy above slime-y boy over in Jura, and he merged with Charybdis. Just cause Drake's screwing around boosting and beating all the spirits he can work his hands on don't mean nothing when those spirits are ranked right at Grade: Low As all Hell."

"You're not wrong." Yuuki shrugged, "It's just as likely that he'll be worth nothing as it is that he actually manages to kill her. Really, it depends on one thing."

"And that is?"

Yuuki smirked, sharp canines shining under the shadowed upper half of his face.

"Why fatherly love, don't you know? I wonder… just how badly does he want to kill his son's killer?"

I wonder… just how interesting this little Demon Lord Seed stealer will end up being? Will you die, or will you live? Will you be useful, or will you have to be put down on the way up? I just can't wait to find out.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Known Skills List

Tanya:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Flames of Babylon

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra Skill: Voice of the World Communication

Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker

Mary:

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra/Intrinsic Skill: Physical Enhancement

Unique Skill: Ability Severance

Notes:

Yeah I'm making Drake lowkey DILF why not. Also, just so I don't have to clarify it in a comment, a Demon Lord Seed can refer to both to the Seed itself and the person who owns it, and Tanya is not a Demon Lord Seed... yeah.